


If Axes Be the Food of Love

by jinkandtherebels



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, Renaissance Faires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 05:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21174338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinkandtherebels/pseuds/jinkandtherebels
Summary: Shisui’s so focused on the hot guy doing archery that he almost doesn’t see the axe coming at his head until it’s too late.





	If Axes Be the Food of Love

**Author's Note:**

> For Day Twelve: "Modern AU". I really love the RenFaire, guys.
> 
> This is my last fic for ShisuIta Week this year and it's been such a blast! Thanks a bunch to everyone who's read my stuff and left comments (which I'll start replying to soon lol), and thanks to all the other awesome writers and artists who've contributed! It's been so much fun seeing all the new ItaShi content. I love this fandom. ^___^ Enjoy!!

.

Shisui’s so focused on the hot guy doing archery that he almost doesn’t see the axe coming at his head until it’s too late.

He drops to the dirt with a yelp. The axe thuds into the wooden target behind him—a perfect bulls-eye, he notes with a wince.

“And that,” Anko’s familiar voice announces, “is why being too gay to function is going to get you killed. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.”

“Hey, I ducked!” Shisui grumbles, picking himself up off the ground and brushing at the dirt in his shirt laces. Why he chose to wear white for this profession is beyond him, he thinks, his eyes already going back to the archery stand—and finding that the hot dark-haired guy is gone.

He yanks Anko’s axe out of the target with excessive force.

.

Shisui’s been working the Renaissance Faire since he was old enough to throw his own axes. He loves everything about it—being outside in the crisp autumn air (minus the occasional freak ninety-degree day where throwing _himself_ on an axe blade starts to sound tempting), the costumes, the smell of turkey legs and incense from the shops, the fact that communicating in terrible puns is actually encouraged (though the first time he told Anko “I must _axe_ you a question” she almost put a kunai knife through his skull), and the overall atmosphere of the thing. The feeling of having a family every weekend for the fall.

Most of his job takes place in the gaming quarter of the Faire, the wide block of painted wooden walls where visitors can shoot arrows and toss axes or kunai or shuriken. (“They’re called throwing stars, Shisui.” “Tell that to my ninja ancestors, _Aaron._”) Shisui’s typically in charge of axe throwing, with its bright red-and-yellow targets so covered in divots and dents that the whole wall could probably collapse at any given time. He just hopes he’s not on duty when that happens.

It’s a fun gig. Definitely less labor-intensive than some of the other jobs; Shisui mainly explains how to aim and then jumps out of the way when people don’t heed his instructions. During slow hours he chats with Anko, who runs the kunai-throwing station across the way, and glares enviously when Anko’s girlfriend Yugao brings her meat pies and delicious sugared almonds at lunchtime.

And sometimes he flirts with visitors. Hey, it’s part of the experience, and if it nabs Shisui a tip or two then all the better. Some of the guys who come by are actually cute in their chain mail or, for the dedicated history fans, their tights (Shisui is starting to share the Tudor appreciation for sexy, sexy calves), but none of it has ever gone anywhere. Shisui’s never especially wanted it to. The Faire is the Faire; real life is its own thing.

That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t let Anko throw a dozen axes at him for the chance to chat with Hot Archery Guy, though.

.

Aforementioned Archery Guy actually comes back the next weekend, which isn’t unheard of—there’re plenty of people who make the RenFaire their weekly event for the whole season—but still makes something in Shisui’s chest flutter.

Something’s different this time around, though. For one, he’s with someone—a lanky, dark-haired teenager with an irritable expression. For another, he appears to have added a black cape with dark red lining to his plainclothes (it’s from Konan’s shop; the guy has good taste). And this time he bypasses the archery stand to throw kunai at Anko’s.

Huh. Maybe Shisui needs to choose a different nickname.

It’s a busy hour for axes, and in the back of his mind Shisui holds out hope that Not-Archery Guy will make his way to Shisui’s station once he’s done throwing knives. But by the time the rush clears out, he and his grumpy-looking shadow are nowhere to be seen.

Later, when they’re packing up for the night, Shisui works up the courage to ask Anko if she’d learned the guy’s name.

She smirks. “Maybe.”

Shisui narrows his eyes. “Are you gonna tell me what it is?”

Anko makes a show of thinking about it before shaking her head.

“You must complete this quest by your own strength, Padawan,” she intones.

It takes all of his self-control not to strangle her.

He settles for muttering “I should ask Leon to leave you in the stocks” and ignores her cackling laughter.

.

The guy is back again the next weekend. And the weekend after that. Anko takes to calling him TDH for Tall Dark and Handsome which, while unoriginal as hell, is at least less of a mouthful than Not-Archery Guy.

Shisui finds himself starting to look for TDH, saying his lines to his visitors and repeating the same jokes and only half-hearing their laughter as his attention drifts. His attention should emphatically _not_ be drifting, as he’s teaching newbies the fine art of throwing sharp objects with great force, but he can’t help it.

Just like he can’t help feeling a little offended that TDH wanders back and forth between archery, kunai, shuriken and even spear-throwing, but never ends up at the axes.

.

It’s the last weekend of the Faire and Shisui has finally given up. Maybe Tall Dark and Handsome had a bad experience with axes in the past; who is Shisui to judge? He resolves to be the most energetic version of himself for this last hurrah and pointedly doesn’t look for anybody in particular.

He’s in the midst of a slow half-hour when a ten-dollar bill is slapped down in front of him. Shisui lifts his head to tell whoever that they pay for axes up at the front counter, but he doesn’t actually get the chance to say anything.

“I’m not throwing axes,” the visitor says bluntly. Shisui realizes it’s the grumpy kid who’s been tailing TDH for weeks.

“Okay,” he says, bemused. “And…?”

The kid’s eyes snag on Shisui’s tip mug—a white drinking horn he bought off Gwen in the Viking quarter—and he stuffs the money into it.

“Call it a tip,” he says. “Or a bribe. Whatever. I don't care. I need you to do me a favor.”

Shisui glances around to see if anyone else is hearing this bizarre conversation. No dice.

“What’s that?” he asks warily.

The kid’s expression twists slightly from ‘grumpy’ to ‘pained’.

“For the love of god,” he says, “_please_ talk to my brother today.”

Were he a Looney Toon, this would be the cue for Shisui to pick his jaw comically up off the ground. As it is, he just stares while his brain tries to process this latest affront to sanity.

“And by brother, you mean—”

“Oh don’t even,” the kid grumbles. “I’ve seen you staring at him whenever we come this way. Please don’t tell me you think you’re subtle.”

Shisui folds his arms. Getting called out by a snotty teenager had not been on his to-do list for today. “I don’t know what your problem is, but I’m here to work, not flirt.”

The kid gives him a long, deeply unimpressed glare. Admittedly, Shisui thinks, using that line as a RenFaire worker wearing a poofy-sleeved shirt straight out of a paperback romance was not the most convincing thing in the world.

“Look,” the kid says in a tone of exaggerated patience. “My brother’s never given a shit about the RenFaire; he only came this year because his professor offered extra credit. And then he saw you, and he was too awkward to say anything, so instead he started dragging _me_ along so we could do this same song and dance every weekend. I can’t take the pining anymore.” His eye starts to twitch. “Also, if I have to listen to bagpipes one more time there’s going to be blood.”

“Hold up,” Shisui interrupts, shoving down a ball of very mixed feelings. “I’m really not sure what you want from me here. This is the last weekend. You won’t have to suffer much longer anyway.”

“It doesn’t matter,” the kid says grimly. “If all of this turns out to be for nothing I’m going to throw myself in front of a charging horse. None of you wants that kind of publicity.” Another twitch. “There was a fucking furry here earlier. You have no idea how much I want death.”

Shisui huffs out a laugh in spite of himself and the kid pounces on his moment of weakness.

“So, kunai station. Sometime later this afternoon, I don’t know, he said something about interrogating the leather worker first.”

He’s tired, so Shisui doesn’t feel too awful when the word ‘leather’ in the context of a hot fellow nerd conjures up a brief but very vivid mental picture. He can practically feel his eyes glaze over for a second.

When he refocuses, the kid is twitching again. He should probably get that looked at.

“And now you owe me for that face alone,” he says, flat, before leaving.

.

For about twenty minutes Shisui manages to pretend he’s not going to give in. That he’s not going to accept a bribe from a teenager to chat up his extremely attractive and also—apparently—interested older brother.

And then Anko comes back from her lunch date with Yugao and Shisui all but begs her to switch stations for the afternoon.

Anko doesn’t immediately stab him for asking (she hates the axe station and the exceptionally inebriated male subset it can sometimes attract), probably because food and the sweet nectar of human contact have softened her. Shisui burns with envy, he really does.

“What’s in it for me if I do?” she asks instead.

“You might not have to listen to me bitch constantly about being single and sad anymore,” Shisui offers. He throws in his most winning grin for good measure.

Anko considers.

“Throw in a turkey leg and you’ve got a deal.”

Shisui kisses her cheek and is immediately punched in the arm for his efforts.

“Deal, and you’re awesome,” he says, rubbing at the forming bruise.

“I know,” she replies. “Now go get your man.”

.

His stomach might be churning with nerves, but Shisui is still a seasoned professional. He explains how to handle the kunai, turns up the charm, makes his jokes and revels in the fact that people genuinely seem to be enjoying themselves. He thinks, wistfully, that he’s going to miss this when it’s gone. He always does.

But maybe today he’ll get a shot at something that could last beyond the season.

His heart starts pounding when he catches a glimpse of TDH and his brother. The kid is pointing and saying something under his breath that Shisui can’t hear, but whatever it is keeps TDH from noticing who’s manning the kunai station until he’s already there.

He meets Shisui’s eyes and freezes like a deer in the headlights. (_A really pretty deer_, Shisui thinks, like an idiot.)

“Hi,” Shisui says with a little wave. He immediately wants to die.

“Hello,” TDH says cautiously. His eyes flicker to his brother. “Sasuke, I think—”

“Me? Go sit down? Sounds like a great idea.” The kid—Sasuke—pastes on a smile. “Take your time. Seriously, my feet are killing me.”

And he stalks off before his brother can say anything else.

There’s a moment of exquisitely awkward silence, during which Shisui has the unfortunate realization that Tall Dark and Handsome is even hotter up close. Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s apparently been adding bits to his ensemble every weekend; aside from the cape he’s now dolled up in a dark leather vest (Obito’s work, Shisui approves) and well-made elf ears. And—are those earrings? Upon closer inspection, yes they are: intricate wirework studded with tiny red beads. The whole look is doing things to Shisui that he can’t really afford to examine _at work_.

He clears his throat. Twice.

“I’m Shisui,” he offers. “Sorry, you were probably expecting Anko but she’s, uh—”

“Did my brother put you up to this?” TDH interrupts.

Shisui briefly considers covering for the brat, but TDH seems too smart for that. Or maybe Shisui’s just stereotyping because he’s wearing glasses. Whatever.

“He might’ve bribed me a little,” he admits. “Which, hey, I don’t get ten-dollar tips that often.”

TDH’s expression is steadily collapsing in on itself. Like a dying star, if stars could die of humiliation.

“I am so sorry,” he says. “I promise he is only occasionally a menace to society.”

Shisui pictures Sasuke’s perma-scowl and kind of doubts it, but he’s on a mission here. He leans on the counter.

“I don’t actually mind,” he says. “Since it seemed like this was the only way I’d get to talk to you before the Faire ended.” He tilts his head and grins, hoping he looks more casual and less like his heart’s in his throat. “Though, you still haven’t told me your name.”

A crease appears between TDH’s eyebrows. Shisui knows that expression—somehow, despite only having five seconds of actual interaction with the guy, he’s managed to fuck it up already.

“Actually,” TDH begins, and then someone coughs. Loudly.

Shisui looks up to see a handful of would-be knife-throwers awkwardly shuffling their feet while he fails at flirting.

He keeps the grin on his face through professionalism and sheer force of will. Hopefully it communicates both “Nope, this is not at all mortifying!” and “Just another day at work, nothing to see here!”

“Okay, hold that thought,” he blurts. He can feel his ears burning bright enough that aliens can probably see them from space, but dammit, if Shisui’s going to crash and burn he’s gonna do it spectacularly. “I’m actually in the joust later, and I think you should come check it out. It’d be a good way to cap off the last weekend, yeah?”

He winks—actually winks, like a _dipshit_, because working the Faire for so long has baked cheese _directly_ into all of his pickup lines—but it’s okay, shockingly, because Itachi just blinks instead of telling Shisui to fuck off. He nods before vanishing into the crowd.

Shisui does his kunai presentation with aplomb, valiantly pretending that none of his customers bore witness to his latest humiliation. They’re kind enough to play along.

.

Tsunade _does_ tell Shisui to fuck off when he bursts into her tent on his lunch break and asks to join the four o’clock joust, but Tsunade’s like that with everybody. Fortunately for Shisui, he’s also one of her favorites—mostly because he knows exactly which stand’s mead to bring her when bribery becomes necessary.

Besides, it’s not like he’s asking for the moon here. Shisui’s subbed in before when they needed someone. He was Inabi’s squire for years, a job that breeds excessive familiarity with both horses (large, smelly, cute-faced bastards that they are) and near-death experiences (since squires are the idiots holding rings while knights stampede forward to throw lances through them—there’s a reason their job description is the cue for Jiraiya to joke “Stay in school, kids!”). He’s been doing practice runs on the tournament field since he was big enough to ride his own horse.

Also, he could assemble a suit of armor in his sleep at this point. That can’t hurt.

So Tsunade caves, and then Shisui just has to convince Iruka to let him take his spot, which ends up being easy because Iruka’s boyfriend is in town and he wanted to show him around the Faire anyway. So it all works out suspiciously well, in Shisui’s opinion.

Still, by all logic he should be bone tired when four rolls around and Shisui, after a long day of explaining basic weaponry to amateurs and then dodging their shittier attempts at aiming, is sitting on a massive horse with approximately 500 pounds of metal on his body. But lust at first sight apparently has some incredible side effects, because he’s feeling practically chipper.

His helmet visor’s still up, so Shisui tunes out the sound of Jiraiya doing his usual script for the audience and instead scans the crowd for Tall Dark and Handsome.

It doesn’t take long to find them: TDH and his brother are sitting right up in the front row. They must’ve gotten here at least an hour ago for seats that good, which might explain why Sasuke is looking at Shisui with an expression of pure loathing.

TDH is also looking at him, minus the loathing. Shisui starts to sweat. He wishes he could wave or something, but his hands are on the reins.

He and Hana each get a favor—a rose to hand out to somebody in the crowd, though there’s a script for that too. Hana invariably gives hers to a pretty girl, which means her opponent gives theirs to a small child. It’s pretty _aww_-inducing; honestly this has always been Shisui’s favorite part, and the toddler he picks is so excited she immediately crushes the flower’s petals. The fact that he catches TDH smiling at the interaction is just a bonus.

The joust itself gets off to a good start. They run through the opening acts—lancing the rings, throwing spears into hay bale targets—while the crowd dutifully roars their names. Shisui wonders if TDH is cheering for him. With his visor down he can’t tell.

Finally Jiraiya announces the main event and the crowd hushes in expectation. Shisui comes around the lists and tests his grip on his lance. Across the field, Hana is doing the same. She’s their only female jouster, and barely older than Shisui besides, but she regularly knocks the shit out of seasoned veterans. Rumor has it she’s started a kind of medieval Fight Club at her college to stay in shape between seasons.

Vaguely Shisui starts to wonder if this was a bad idea. And if pairing him with Hana was Tsunade’s way of reminding him not to get uppity.

But he doesn’t have much time to dwell on his impending doom before Jiraiya gives the signal and suddenly they’re all pounding forward, Shisui and Hana and the horses. Shisui lowers his lance, feels the blood pounding in his skull, braces himself—

—and suddenly he’s in the air.

He has time for exactly one thought before he hits the dirt, and that is:

_Oh, **fuck**._

.

He wakes up in the medical tent, which—shockingly, given his career as a dodger of sharp objects—Shisui has never actually been inside of before. So that’s a fun new experience.

Decidedly _not_ fun is the fact that the entire side of his body feels like one big-ass bruise. Out of morbid curiosity he looks down at his heavily bandaged torso and—yep, it absolutely is one giant bruise. Not surprising, he guesses; Hana didn’t pull her punches and neither did the hard ground. Shisui lets out a groan, already dreading how miserable the drive home is going to be.

“So you are awake.”

He twists his head in surprise to see TDH sitting in a foldout metal chair at his bedside.

“Are you sure?” he asks after a second. “You could definitely be a hallucination.”

TDH raises an eyebrow. “I have to say, that was certainly the most…unusual joust I’ve attended. Normally people get back up when they fall.”

Shisui winces. If the goal had been to look cool in front of TDH, he definitely messed that one up. Oh well. He soldiers on.

“Bet I looked pretty cool soaring through the air like that, though,” he points out. “Hana’s always telling me I need to put on more muscle if I’m gonna be a regular on the jousting docket. Maybe this’ll teach my body the lesson for me.”

TDH’s eyes flicker down before quickly moving back up to his face. Shisui feels very aware of the fact that he’s currently shirtless, but at this point it’s not like the whole thing can get any more awkward so he decides to go for broke.

“You never did tell me your name,” he says.

There goes the eyebrow again. “You were somewhat busy being thrown off your horse.”

“Details.”

That almost gets him a smile. Almost.

“It’s Itachi,” he says.

“Itachi,” Shisui repeats. Sweet victory at last. “Nice to meetcha. Officially, that is. You local?”

For a second the almost-smile appears again, though Shisui doesn’t get why. “I attend college near here, yes.”

“No kidding? Me too.” Shisui pauses. “Wait, which school?”

Itachi tells him. The name of his college is familiar—as it damn well should be, considering it’s _Shisui’s fucking school_.

“You’re shitting me!” he blurts. “Are we actually on the same campus?”

“Yes,” Itachi says, looking way too amused. “I have seen you in the dining hall on occasion, and I believe we had a literature class together last semester.”

Shisui shakes his head. “No fucking way. I would’ve noticed somebody that hot.”

And there’s the awkward silence again. Shisui fervently wishes his injuries had been serious enough that he could blame this on the drugs.

“Jesus Christ,” he says with feeling. “I swear I’m usually more suave than this.”

“Perhaps you would have noticed me earlier if I always wore elf ears,” Itachi says, deadpan.

“Hey, that’s a nerd stereotype and I resent the implication…” Shisui trails off as another implication hits him. “Wait, wait. Does that mean you noticed _me_?”

“I decline to answer that.”

“What are you, a lawyer or something?”

“Pre-law,” Itachi corrects him, and there’s just no way Shisui is winning this conversation. Serves him right for falling for a law student.

Which, right, he did have a point to make in all this.

“So since we’re geographically compatible and all, do you wanna hang out sometime?” he asks. “Somewhere people aren’t wearing tights, I mean.”

Itachi’s mouth twitches. “I don’t mind the tights.”

Shisui laughs. “Should’ve known you were the type to go for those sexy, sexy calves.”

“They are historically accurate.”

“They _are_! I keep telling people—wait, no. I’m focusing here.” He drags himself into a sitting position (which, ouch). “Is that a yes?”

Itachi adjusts his glasses so Shisui can’t see his expression. Cheater.

“My brother may or may not have already put my number in your phone,” he admits. “While you were still passed out.”

Shisui whistles. “Thought you said he was only a menace sometimes?”

“That…may have been a biased statement on my part.”

Itachi shifts on the metal chair with a wince. Shisui wonders just how long he’s been sitting there waiting for Shisui to wake up.

His heart is pounding again. He wonders how many adrenaline rushes his body can take before it just explodes into gooey bits.

“Hey,” he says. “Think I can get away with doing one stupid thing and blaming it on the concussion?”

Itachi tilts his head. “That seems like it would depend on the severity of the thing in question. Legally speaking there is a defense—”

“God,” Shisui interrupts, “I can already tell I’m gonna love your lawyerspeak,” and with that he leans over (ouch ouch _ouch_) and presses a kiss to Itachi’s mouth.

Itachi is blinking rapidly when he pulls back, his face gone almost as red as his earrings.

“Do you always do things this quickly?” he asks.

“It’s Romance Weekend,” Shisui explains, feeling his ears heat up again. “Besides, I’m concussed, remember?”

“You are not concussed,” Itachi informs him, but he’s leaning back into Shisui’s space. “I was here the entire time. Incredibly you did not sustain any real damage.”

“Shh,” Shisui says, “I’m totally concussed.”

Itachi kisses him again instead of arguing, which Shisui will consider a victory all around.

They aren’t that far from the main fairgrounds. Shisui can smell the last of the turkey legs and sugared almonds; somewhere in the distance he hears the familiar strains of bagpipes. The RenFaire season is ending.

But for once, Shisui finds he’s really looking forward to what comes after.


End file.
